


Refuge from Responsibilities

by BridgeWowDah



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort Sex, Gay Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeWowDah/pseuds/BridgeWowDah
Summary: After the battle of Ghimlyt, the Warrior of Light had been taken back to Ishgard after falling to Zenos. In this time, he has decided to extend his stay. This gives him the time to reflect on who he's become, and all he's been through. This proves to be troubling. Thankfully, there's one elezen in particular who's there to comfort a friend in need.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 11





	Refuge from Responsibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! So, this is my first time writing a fic like this. I've written much before, but never like this or with as much thought put into it. I plan to write three chapters - this one here, then two more. It involves my own Warrior of Light, so I aim to do my best to make him as understandable as possible. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

The battle of Ghimlyt. It'd taken place less than a week ago yet he scarcely recalled much of it. He – the Warrior of Light. Talbert Hardin. A strenuous battle, to say the least. One that marked a turning between the Eorzean Alliance and Garlean Empire. The Alliance was very much on the defensive- defending a just rekindled Ala Mhigo. One would think that, of all people, the Warrior of Light would remember that of which took place. Talbert did not.  
  
At least, for the most part. As he stared into a mirror, he saw not himself but another. Zenos. That cursed image, able to spark so much bitterness and hatred. Talbert despised _him_. ... it was not healthy. That _man_ did not deserve any mere sense of mercy, though spending time wishing- hoping the most unfortunate of misfortunes to befall him did Talbert little good. Besides, his extended time in Ishgard was not meant for such imaginings.  
  
He was staying in room provided by no one other than the Lord Commander himself. Aymeric had insisted that if Talbert were to stay, he was _not_ to do so in an inn room fit for the 'common rabble'. The last he wanted to do was argue with a friend. … a friend. Talbert knew better, but that felt so scarce. Aymeric was a friend – someone he could truly, most comfortably put his faith in. It wasn't that he was without the Scions... though as of current, they were lost.  
  
Those intrusive words, so forcefully implanted into the deepest reaches of his understanding – at the illest of times, no less. Whoever seemed so persistent was surely trying to get him killed. Then again, perhaps not exactly. If his other compatriots had befallen a comatose-like state, similar to each other, then he was sure to be next, correct? He hoped not.  
  
There's been no other word from that elusive voice since his skirmish with Zenos. That, at the very least, was a relief. Of course, Talbert suspected the next occurrence was inevitable. For the time- even just the moment, comfort was found in this room so graciously provided. It felt humble – humble for royalty, at least. A bed fit for two- likely the best he'd ever slept in, a small furnace in place of a fireplace, wardrobe, bookshelf, and a small table with two chairs that sat right next to the window. And, of course, the full-length mirror that sat in the corner.  
  
Talbert was still looking at himself in it – sitting on the side of the bed. There was his long, black hair that neared his shoulders, the slim features of his face, pale skin- the dark circles around his eyes still as prevalent as usual, the freshly groomed goatee only existent on his chin – sparingly spreading along his jawline. Still himself – a hyur, through and through. Despite everything... _everything_ , it was still him looking back.  
  


… If only it felt like it. Talbert recognized that face staring back at him, but it was not that same feeble young man struggling to find work as a mercenary that Hydaelyn had chosen. No, no. This face was much more broken than before. This one had seen so much more, been through so much more. Recounting it all could make someone crumble under their own weight. This respite Talbert had forced himself into was making it that more clear. He... was a mess.  
  
How did anyone expect so much of him? Because they knew he would do it? No- in some sick way, he _had_ to. Many would call him a hero, but that didn't sit with him. He could not accept that when he felt much less than a pawn. There may have been an opportunity where it'd been easy to turn on a heel and damn Hydaelyn to find another, but now it felt as if that chance of escape was nothing more than a needle in a haystack. Quitting now wasn't an option.  
  
This wasn't fair. Why was he, of all people, selected for this life – this ill-wanted fate that some seemed to yearn for so much? He didn't want this. Not now, he didn't. It was novel, at first. From it he's gone places he never thought possible and met people that were beyond his sense of creativity. What he'd least expected was the opposite of the coin. Where there is happiness and grandeur, there must be sadness and misery. And for all his work, each coin flip seemed to be landing tail-end up more often than not.  
  
Looking away from the mirror now, outside the window Talbert saw the gloomy, gray skies Ishgard happened to be famous for. With a slight, brief grunt of pain, he pushes himself up from his bed and trudges over towards to get a better look. From so high, the city below looked so, so small – it's citizens, most especially. As much as he wished to push the window open, the thought of Coerthas' chill wind's tickling his skin made him bristle, and shy away from the thought.  
  
Him and the weather had never been fond for one another. From a young age, growing up on the coast of La Noscea, him and his mother both were faced with the fact he took to the cold much easier than others. Years later, after numerous healers, alchemists, priests consulted, he'd still answer as to why his body betrayed him in such a way. In the end, all he'd to help himself was dress warmer – even in the arid dryness of Thanalan.  
  
… None of this was fair. In a moment, it was all Talbert could think about. From his body seemingly doing it's best to make him miserable- from making him shiver at the faintest breeze to keeping him away from the slightest moment of sleep, to this path- this _life_ Hydaelyn had chosen for him. It made him angry... then filled with anguish.  
  
His arms crossed over one another – his hands clasping either slender bicep, squeezing them. His breath hitches before he feels the barest warmth begin running down his cheeks. No words were spared on himself. Talbert was a quiet sort, but nonetheless could not hold back a choked cry for himself. This felt overdue. So long had other matters held up a moment for himself – to let himself understand what he was feeling and let the emotion run free.  
  
And, as fate would have at him again, there came a rasp upon his door.  
  
“Talbert?”  
  
The voice was all too familiar. A voice that, despite catching him off guard, promised solace.  
  
“C-... Come in.”

Aymeric made no delay in pushing the door open. Much like any other time the two of them spoke, the elezen wore that small yet welcoming smile he always did. If anything, it grew even more so when in Talbert's presence – be it deliberate or simply... otherwise instinctual. 

  
“Pray forgive my-” Not that it lasts long, upon seeing Talbert's current state. As Talbert turns to face him, a quick glance is all he needs to notice him faintly shuddering and the tears staining his face. “... intrusion.” That smile was gone, replaced by worry – his tone first jubilant, now quiet and careful. “Dear Talbert, what ails you?” Aymeric knew it not his business, but he could not help but worry.

  
There's no response from Talbert at first. Where he'd been staring up at Aymeric, his eyes were now focused at his feet. He then shrugs, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his right cheek – then the left. “Ah- nothing.” A simple lie - easy to quip, but not enough to convince the Lord Commander, he knew that much.  
  
That it didn't. It instead has the older of the two take on a slightly stern expression before shutting the door behind him. Talbert had never seen that face made at him. It would've made him disconcerted if he knew not the reasoning for it.  
  
In this brief moment, the hyur takes the chance to look Aymeric up and down. He was not wearing his armor and coat as he typically did, rather what seemed to be worn underneath – more formfitting garb of blue. That alone would've been enough for him to raise a brow in question, but then there was what he held. A platter – filled with a smattering of cheeses, slices of meat, olives, and a general assortment of small consumables. … Ah. Aymeric had been meaning to visit. Of course, he didn't account for walking in on the Warrior of Light in this state of mind.  
  
“You must forgive me and my expressed doubt, but I take it that is not, precisely, the case.” Aymeric was one of the gentler individuals Talbert had the pleasure of knowing, but he did not hold his seat with lack of boldness. “If-...” Then again, he knew that someone could only be so bold before making a fool of themselves. Or upsetting others. The last thing he wished was to inflict more of that latter onto Talbert.  
  
After cutting himself off, shutting his eyes for a moment, and taking a breath, Aymeric's demeanor shifts back to that with which he entered the room with. “Care to share this with me,” he asks, gesturing to and with the platter.  
  
That smile- as faint as it was, could melt all the snow and ice in all of Coerthas. At the very least, it made Talbert feel a warmth build up inside his otherwise cold self. It showed on his face first, his cheeks warm and turning red- barely a light pink. That alone made the elezen feel better.  
  
“... what sort of meat?”  
  
The inquiry catches Aymeric off guard for a moment, promptly shifting his attention down to the plate. “Er- stag, I believe. Salted and dried.”  
  
It didn't much matter what it was. Talbert wasn't going to say no. … That being said, the hyur wasn't without his favorites. Swallowing, then taking a breath, Talbert nods over to the table and two chairs sat next to the window behind him.  
  
“Come-... settle in then.”


End file.
